


Sharing

by oleanderedits



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Flirting, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, relationship, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderedits/pseuds/oleanderedits
Summary: They share everything, eventually.





	Sharing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rizzolson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizzolson/gifts).



> Stanlovespeggy@tumblr requested a fic where Daryl flirts by stealing clothing. Based on filming images where Daryl seems to have added to his own wardrobe by continuing to take from Paul's.
> 
> Typos are my own, will fix later

It began with a bandana. Kerchief. Utility rag. Whatever one might call the cloth slipped into Daryl's back pocket and used for a multitude of purposes, not the least of which was the simple comfort of having it there.

It wasn't intentional, that first scrap of fabric snatched off the wall before they got ready to head to the place Tara called Oceanside. It wasn't done with any intention to grab a certain someone's attention. It was just something Daryl felt he needed and that certain someone had told him to make sure and take what he needed from the trailer before they left.

During the short week that felt like a lifetime that was the 'war' with Negan and his saviors, particularly after the heartbreaking return to Hilltop that followed Alexandria's destruction and Carl's death, Daryl's continued usage of whatever that certain someone had laying around the trailer wasn't questioned. Wasn't thought about. Though in retrospect, it certainly helped to reaffirm a pattern of sorts. The habits Daryl fell into without knowing it.

And after the war, in the fallout where everyone was figuring out what to do with the threat of the Savior's lifted off their shoulders and the freedom that came with it, the habit's Daryl had fallen into became something that grounded him. He didn't go back to Alexandria, where what little life he'd been establishing for himself had been damn near destroyed. Where Negan was imprisoned and fed three squares instead dead and walking and dead again like he should have been. No, he stuck to Hilltop where there was a trailer with a couch or a spot on the floor waiting for him to curl up every night, a plate of food when he needed it. Where he felt sense of normalcy at the start and end of each day.

The pants were the second thing and they were only sort of intentional. He only had the one pair he'd been given, after all, and while a lot of things had been redistributed from Sanctuary and back to the settlements they belonged to, clothing was not on the list. With winter coming on fast, there had been plans for runs specifically to fill out people's closets with what was probably the most abundant 'resource' one could scavenge. Whole closets and stores dedicated to fashion sitting there abandoned and waiting for a semblance of civilization to find them again. 

But Daryl needed the pants before the runs happened, so he scrounged through the basket of clean clothes that a certain someone kept at the foot of his bed for storage until he found a pair he'd seen the man wear before. They'd been baggy on him, but on Daryl, with the extra two inches of height and slightly wider hips, he figured they'd fit just about right. And when he put them on, his assumption was validated. There was no way they'd hang the same as they had on the actual owner, but that didn't stop him from mentally comparing the fit. An idle thought that he navigated for a while as he adjusted the tug across his inner thigh and went to tie up the ankles with mixed bits of shoe string so cloth wouldn't catch in his bike. 

A habit, once again, catching up to him. His bike was gone. Destroyed when the Savior's bombed Alexandria. It made him stop, ass on the couch and fingers wrapped around the string that was wrapped around a calf that was waiting to be tied. The bottom fell out of his thoughts and left him feeling like he was in mental freefall. Sure, he was aware of the bike being gone, but it hadn't really hit him until that moment. 

Then that certain someone walked in and his attention was draw away, distracted by the soft smile and the pleasantly annoyed click of a tongue as the man started folding his clothes back up and putting them neatly back where they belonged. Daryl continued his tying on autopilot, snorting back a scoff and a small joke with a tiny smile he let his hair hide as he ducked his head to get the other ankle finished. When he stood, he grabbed the old pants and dropped them in the basket of dirty clothes. Then bent over to pick the whole thing up and left with a falsely innocent 'Just doing laundry' as he backed himself out the door.

He hadn't intended to take the whole thing out. Had other shit he had to do. But it was worth the sharp laughter born of an unexpected declaration he got in return. The smile lingering in his thoughts for days after.

The shirts were completely intentional.

He only needed so many pants. One to wear out and one to wear out when the first pair was getting cleaned. No big deal. Nothing a certain someone would take much notice of seeing as how he had just a few in total and the two had started to just wear whatever was clean that the other wasn't. There was no attention to be drawn to that and Daryl had started to find he liked it when that certain someone gave him his attention. Wanted more of it.

Socks weren't something he was going to mess with. Nor were underwear. That was a bit on the too intimate side even for people sharing a trailer and living like they'd been roommates for decades. That was... well, it was beyond the scope Daryl was comfortable with when he didn't even know if his certain someone thought of him in the same way. And he didn't think trying to declare his feelings with a pair of stolen boxer was the right way to go about it. At least not before he was certain there was anything reciprocated.

Which, really, left the shirts.

They were all extremely loose on the other man, but on Daryl, were tight across the shoulders, around the biceps, and looser across the stomach. Button-ups fit better than pull-ons of any sort. Were easier to get on, too. Didn't feel like he was fighting a losing battle every time the tried to tug them over his head and slide his arms through the sleeves. Also didn't feel like he was stretching them out too much. His intention wasn't to ruin the clothes, after all. Which also meant the sleeves stayed on.

The first real attempt, wherein Daryl purposely took a shirt that his certain someone had worn before, was just before the first snow fall and right after one of the successful extra clothing and blankets runs. All the communities had sent groups out and there was a big swap meet style meet-up after where they went through lists of essentials and divvied those up as needed, then let everyone go through and take what they wanted like one large clearance sale.

That Certain Someone had mostly gone through and picked things out for Maggie and Enid that he thought they might like, but he'd also found a couple shirts for Daryl and brought those over to be approved or not. He mostly left the rest to everyone else and while Daryl just nodded at the choices, he, too, was waiting for people to start packing up before picking over the last of it for themselves. The two were part of a small handful that stayed to the end and boxed up the remains for storage and future perusal come the spring and summer. Though six of the shirt, three button-ups, two long-sleeve pull overs, and one dark grey hoodie three sizes too big, made it into that Certain Someone's personal bag along side the two shirts he'd picked out for Daryl.

When they made it back home, they unpacked and put the clothes in the dirty pile to be cleaned the next day. Daryl took it out in the morning, having somehow fallen into the habit of being the one to do the laundry more often than not for the pair of them. When the they came back at the end of the day, nothing was really sorted, just folded and put together in the clean clothes basket and left to be worn as needed.

But the day after that, Daryl heard his Certain Someone rummaging while he brushed his teeth. He knew what it was about before he stepped out of the bathroom wearing the shirt his Certain Someone had mentioned offhandedly wanting to wear after it was cleaned. Said Certain Someone's words of frustration died in his throat as he looked up  and realized what Daryl was wearing. Daryl raised an eyebrow, crossed the three feet to the basket, pulled out one of the shirts that had been picked out for him, and held it up for his Certain Someone to take. He finished brushing his teeth on the walk back to the sink, and, after spitting and rinsing, said, "Think it shrunk in the wash."

His Certain Someone's brows creased as a smile, one clearly born of confusion, formed. He nodded and didn't question it, though, as he turned his back to Daryl and started to get dressed.

The next time Daryl wore a shirt he'd expressly talked about wearing for a run, however, the smile he gave Daryl was far from confused. Once more, he didn't say anything about it, but there was a glint in his eyes that held a soft amusement at Daryl's antics.

The third time Daryl did it, his Certain Someone looked at him like he'd just won a bet and it rankled a bit because he couldn't figure out what that meant. But his Certain Someone was looking at him more often, smiling at him more often, and just generally giving him attention far more regularly. And that was the whole point of it, right? So he wasn't going to complain too much.

Especially not when, in the dead of winter, that Certain Someone offered him a clean pair of his own boxers when Daryl couldn't find none of his after a shower and was tearing up the place.

"Just wear one of mine, I don't mind." he'd said, casually, like it meant nothing when it meant everything.

When Daryl stared at him, mind going off like a bunch of firecrackers with no aim, he stood up and held a pair out on a finger, like a worm dangling on a hook. He smiled, mischievous and nervous at the same time, testing the waters he thought he knew, "We share everything else, don't we?"

Daryl gulped hard and nodded, numbly, mutely, and reached out to take them like he was accepting a proposal. His cheeks burned red as he shyly retreated back into the bathroom to put them on.

When he stepped out, dressed save for socks and shoes, Jesus lifted the blanket on the bed in invitation, "I think I'll stay in today. Do some reading. Join me?"

He did.


End file.
